


meet me in REM

by poetatertot



Series: dreaming on fire [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathtubs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of Apocalypse - Freeform, Minor Injuries, Shopping Cart Races
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 13:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15797793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetatertot/pseuds/poetatertot
Summary: There isn’t much to do in Millport without breaking the law.Luckily, the Foxes have always been known for making something out of nothing.





	meet me in REM

**Author's Note:**

> The past two weeks have been testing me but here I am again! This is maybe a little weirder than the other parts? I make dreams a little weird. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The happier Neil becomes, the more life seems like the dreams he’s never had.

Daytime sears pink patches onto his bare skin; cool fingers balm his burns to numbness. Nighttime stretches shadows into his thoughts; hands at his back push him into the moonlight. Scratches tear at his knees and knuckles; band-aids and gauze wrap him gently, cushioning cuts with soft voices that carry into the bathroom.

“Sit,” Andrew commands. Neil perches on the toilet lid like he’s done a thousand times before. The first-aid kit slides out from under the sink, clattering against the tiles, and pops open with a careless flick of Andrew’s fingers.

Stinging antiseptic, cool cloths. The gentle, oh-so-soft press of rough hands over his cheekbone to still him.

“You look like shit,” Andrew informs him. Neil does his best not to smile.

“That’s not what you thought earlier.”

“Wrong.” Stickiness as the gauze is taped to his skin. “I don’t think about you at all.”

Cold words to cover warm things underneath. Neil knows the game, so he doesn’t point out that Andrew hasn’t let anyone get near him since he hit the asphalt exactly one hour before.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Andrew’s hands twitch against the side of his face, running from the edge of the gauze up to his ear and down his jawline.

“Shut up.”

Hard syllables; soft lips.

.

There isn’t much to do in Millport without breaking the law. Dust makes as good of a snack as the grit in Neil’s socks, and the cracked sidewalks offer nothing but rays hellbent on killing every cell in his body. He’d have better luck burying his head in the dirt than trying to unearth small pleasures.

Luckily, the Foxes are good at making something out of nothing.

Albertson’s stands separate from the rest of Millport’s marketplace. A bastion of white plaster in a yellow-brown town, it’s the largest surviving business with automatic doors. The AC hasn’t worked in years, and the overhead lights spark sometimes, but Andrew insists on going weekly to stock up on chocolate cereal and ice cream. Apocalypse or not, Neil is impressed with his dedication to eating shit.

The biggest issue with Alberton’s—stomach-rending diets aside—is that with only a handful of employees, its hours are random at best and nonexistent at worst. Grocery shopping, already an ordeal with a list two pages long, now has the extra special element of showing up and hoping someone felt like coming in to work that day.

Today was not one of those days.

“Fucking hell.” Aaron tips his head back and squints at the overhead sign. The _l_ rattles on its remaining rusty bolts, threatening to fall. “This is the third day this week. What else is there to do around here?”

“Smoke crack,” Nicky suggests. “Or die, maybe.”

Andrew glares at the offending doors. He turns away and lights up in a cloud of smoke.

“Do you want to head to 7-Eleven?” Neil knows better than to let Andrew go without his sugary vices; the last time he did nothing, the kitchen ended up missing half its dishes to the Court’s second-story balcony. Kevin had to drink his protein shakes out of bowls for a week. “They’ve got slurpees.”

Andrew exhales. “But no Cookie Crisp.”

“No.”

“Then no.”

“Cookie Crisp is all empty carbs anyway,” Kevin supplies unhelpfully. “If you started your day with eggs—”

Andrew cuts him a glare. Kevin’s suggestion dies in his throat.

A moment of silence stretches between them.

“Well,” Nicky says slowly. “You could always just use real cookies instead.”

Aaron frowns. “Isn’t that even worse?”

“It’s still the same concept, isn’t it?”

“That’s not the point. You can’t just smash a _Chips Ahoy_ bag into a bowl of milk and call it a day.” He pauses. “Can you?”

Everyone turns to look at Andrew, who turns to look at Neil. Neil blinks back, a little lost and a lot confused on why this decision falls to him.

“It could work,” he says. “It’s better than waiting here for someone to show up.”

Andrew tilts his head, thinking carefully, and exhales. Smoke curls into a halo around his head, dulling the golden sheen of his hair from the setting sun.

“We’re going,” he tells them, and then, “bring the cart with us.”

 _The cart_ —or, as Nicky loves to call it, _hell on wheels_ —is one of many things scrounged out of the trash since Neil’s arrival. Made of red plastic and wheels that scream bloody murder when turned, the cart boasts proportions too thin for a grown man to fit right and too wide to stop shit from flying when the wheels slam over road debris. The foldable basket is too rusted to unfold properly; the rim, too sharp to squeeze. Still, there’s nothing else the Foxes prefer for carrying groceries.

The cart rattles with every step. Nicky’s knuckles stand out on his hands with the effort of pushing straight.

They make it ten feet before he turns to Neil says the magic words.

“I bet you can’t make it across the lot faster than Kevin.”

It’s a fool’s bet. Everyone knows Neil is the fastest of the Foxes by nearly twenty seconds. “You’ll lose that bet.”  
  
Nicky cracks a devilish grin. “Not if you have to be in the cart.”

Being one of the smallest team members means Neil can cram himself in without cutting his arms. He’s forced to tuck his knees up to his chest and wrap his arms around his legs, making himself as tiny as possible to fit. The move leaves him scarily vulnerable to toppling out.

Why is he doing this? It’s not like he has anything to prove—he’s never been one to rise to a bet, not the way Allison or Matt would—and he’s not nearly wearing enough clothing to save himself if he falls out.

He reflects, briefly, that he really is becoming a Fox.

Several feet back, Andrew gives him a derisive look and lights another stick. Neil can’t help but smile.

“Don’t steer me into a rock,” he tells Nicky. Nicky laughs.

They line up at the edge of a parking space, wheels and toes just behind the faded white paint. Aaron raises one arm high above his head. The gravel between Albertson’s and 7-Eleven shimmers, heat waves and melting gold, a gleaming black ocean stretching impossibly far.

Aaron’s shadow ripples. Nicky explodes forward, legs pumping as he slams himself into the cart. Kevin takes off in a spray of stones.

The world narrows to a single point of green-red-orange that blurs everything in Neil’s peripheral to dust. He can feel every pebble under the cart’s wheels, the frame rattling with a vicious tremble that makes his teeth ache and presses razor-sharp plastic into his exposed forearms. Nicky breathes loudly right behind his ear, a high whistle halfway to a laugh. The rust-caked metal begins to scream.

He feels the second Nicky lets go like flying. The cart shoots forward without direction, sheer momentum catapulting Neil over open ground like a swooping bird. His heart thumps in his ears; he can taste dirt and his own sweat on his tongue. Someone laughs maniacally over the groan of metal— _him_ , it’s him—  

The cart slams over an unseen rock. He’s ripped free in an instant, thrown wide over open ground. Blacktop moves beneath him in slow motion. He watches it rush up to meet his face.

 _Oh,_ he thinks. _There it goes._

_I should have just ran._

Rock bites into him with jagged teeth. He skids, rolling over and over like a soda can; his flesh flares up with horrible heat, a lancing fire that swathes one cheek and consumes his arms in sharp, claw-like swipes. All the air rushes out of his lungs. He tastes grit, sooty and filthy, feels it crunch between his teeth like a kernel of popcorn.

And then, he stops.

Indistinct yelling flies over him. He breathes in, tastes blood, and exhales with a glob of salty, thick spit. Something hot trickles down his neck.

“You fucking idiot,” someone snarls. Strong hands grip his shoulder and roll him over. The shadow of a face falls over his eyes, blocking out a glimpse of peach clouds and lavender sky. “I _knew_ this would happen.”

“Sorry,” Neil croaks, but he can’t help the wild smile that stretches across his face. He can feel his blood singing in his veins, bright and hot where Andrew’s hands cradle him like a gentle, precious thing.

.

In his dreams, the hands that put him back together take him apart.

They crowd into the bathroom and shut the door behind them without interruption. There are no voices that whisper through the cracks; no bodies inhabit this strange space except them.

They don’t speak. Andrew pushes around him to turn on the tub, and Neil gets to work unbuttoning his jeans. His clothes fall to the floor in a cloud of filth, dust and dirt smearing over white tiles. First go his pants, then his shirt. He slips his thumbs into his underwear and pulls.

He doesn’t hesitate. Here, there is nothing to be afraid of.

The sink drip, drip, drips to the beat of his heart. The tub fills to near-brim with black water, a void longing to spill over and swallow the floor. Andrew’s hand runs through it, along its edge, caressing ink and velvet. When he turns back, his eyes burn into Neil’s—mirrored darkness, twin pools of black looking to swallow something else.

It’s time.

Neil sinks in without hesitation. The water trickles goosebumps down his spine, shocking his breath through parted lips. Andrew’s gaze rests on him, a heavy weight; his body becomes a steady wall as he slinks in fully-clothed. The water rises to lick at their chests.

There’s not nearly enough room for them both. Knees knock against porcelain; hands touch and slide, running over wet skin and dipping into inky darkness. Every breath presses Neil’s spine against the length of Andrew’s torso. He can feel his exhales sliding over his neck, down his exposed collarbone in a warm rush, and compared to the water’s chill, Andrew’s heat is nearly unbearable.

Water sloshes over the tub’s edge like melting wax. It dribbles, expanding over bathroom tiles until the floor is one giant black hole. Ink froths and rises, bubbling, reaching to tear down white walls like a flame eating paper.

Neil should maybe be afraid, but he can’t quite summon the will. He’s warm and relaxed, rapidly turning to putty with Andrew at his back. He watches dark sludge crawl up the walls, dripping in reverse motion, and lets his head fall back onto Andrew’s shoulder.

Eventually, Andrew guides him into turning around. His hands slide up over exposed skin, fingers whispering ease into the battered flesh they touch. The wound on Neil’s face throbs, pulsing cool under a trail of fingertips. He exhales in relief.

Leaning in is as easy as breathing. Andrew tastes like the hot earth Neil’s come to love, like the water sloshing between their bodies, salty-sweet but clean. His hair winds soft through Neil’s wet fingers, tickling at his palms.

Something drips onto his cheeks. Through the barest crack of his lids he realizes that the walls have been eaten, that the ceiling is beginning to drip black raindrops of warm ink. He closes his eyes to the rain.

They lean, and lean. Neil lets himself fall back, his head cradled by Andrew’s hands and his arms bracing against Andrew’s neck. His heartbeat rises, rises, syncing with the frantic press of their mouths.

They fall.

The water swallows them without a sound.

**Author's Note:**

> any reoccurring motifs? hmm..
> 
> feedback is appreciated! or come say hi on [tumblr](http://poetatertot.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [playlist for this series](https://open.spotify.com/user/xelaperez36/playlist/59jW12FLhAIpr97AvwOoLm?si=qUEsZx7TSBST3p2Bx5T1OQ)


End file.
